


Breath Of Life (or Conceiving the Scoobies)

by alexus



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, History, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14635011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexus/pseuds/alexus
Summary: Some people say human life begins after the birth. Others say it begins after the conception. The second variant is a bit more interesting, so here we have ten stories about how lives of some Scoobies might have begun...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All canon caracters belong to Joss Whedon!

1.

**Sheraton Princess Kaiulani Hotel, Honolulu, Hawaii.  November 1979.**

**Room occupied by newlyweds from California Richard and Deborah Chase**.

 

It was an early morning hour when the first rays of the rising sun started  coming through the window shade, illuminating the fully equipped modern room  on the ninth floor of the luxurious Princess Kaiulani Hotel.

While getting inside, the sunlight began mercilessly caressing the whole place. It took particular interest in two bodies – athletic male and more fragile female – snuggling under the covers of a large  soft bed.

Waking up after a night of almost unearthly pleasure, the young and handsome Richard Chase, 25, had enough reasons to feel happy and life-loving. First, he had recently become his father’s company majority shareholder and thus was less concerned about the future.  Second, he had married his college sweetheart and the most beautiful girl on earth, the 24-year-old Deborah Wilkins.

Both were inseparable since the first year in UC Sunnydale and were voted to be the most spectacular couple time and time again.

Now both were enjoying their honeymoon in one of the picturesque part of the United States, having fun, going to the beach, the movies or restaurants, and, of course, making love and plans for the future.

“Rick…” – Deborah murmured sweetly pressing herself against her husband’s sleepy form.

“Yeah, Deb, my love?..” – Mr. Chase said yawning and placing his hand on his wife’s waist. 

“Last night…” – she said dreamily, closing her eyes and re-living those remarkable moments of pure happiness and uncontrollable passion. – “Last night was wonderful… It was magic…”

“Last night was special” – Richard agreed, kissing his spouse. – “Every minute with you, my love, makes me wanna fly. I wanna tell the whole world I’m the happiest man alive, ‘cause I’ve got you by my side, Debbie. You make me complete”.

“I love you, darling” – Richard whispered in Deborah’s ear, stroking her long blonde hair lovingly.

“Love you too, Rick” – she replied, arching her back a little.

Their mouths met for a long and passionate kiss. They continued kissing with such a passion as if their whole lives depended on it.

Debbie moaned hugging her husband, her Richard around his neck. She felt seventh heaven when his gentle hands started fondling her beautiful smooth breast.

They continued making out without a word for some time until Mrs. Chase broke the silence.

“You know, Richard, I’ve been thinkin’ about it all lately…”

“Well, what were you thinking about, my princess?” – Richard inquired, taking Deborah’s hand in his.

“What do you think about having a baby?” – woman decided to get straight to the point.

“Good idea” – he smiled. – “I think I like kids. They’re adorable. I remember my family’s constant visits to Uncle Danny and Aunt Rose in Anaheim, and playing with my younger cousins Stevie and Lou was definitely the best part of the whole thing. Then when my older sis’ got married and gave birth to my wonderful niece Betsy… I think I’m quite familiar with most things children-related… So I believe I can have a kids of my  own… Kids with the most  gorgeous woman in this  world!”

Saying this, Mr. Chase pulled his young wife closer, inhaling her enchanting smell. Why all the mornings couldn’t be like this one, he thought.

“Rick” – Deborah murmured tenderly in her husband’s ear. – “You’ll be a great father, sweetie, I’m sure.”

She kissed him softly in the nose and then started running her forefinger around Richard’s muscular chest. She leaned her head on her spouses chest and began caressing man’s cheek with her left hand.

“Richard… I even came up with a name…”  

Mr. Chase raised his eyebrow: “You mean, baby’s name?”

“Yeah…”

“So?..” – Richard cupped Debbie’s face in his hands, made her meet his gaze.

“If my first-born child will be a girl, I wanna give her a name Cordelia”

“Cordelia?”

“Cordelia. It’s a beautiful name which is not common these days… I want our child to be special, Ricky, in ev’ry aspect.”

“You have a point, Deb” – Mr. Chace replied, looking at his wife with some lustful sparks in his eyes.

Deborah always understood that particular look. Without hesitation she got on top of him, pressing her naked body up against Richard’s.    

The feast of love continued.

 

2.

**Hank and Joyce Summers’ apartment. Los Angeles, California. June 1980.**

 

That was the night of sheer passion. The bedroom walls of a rather small central-L.A. apartment witnessed silently the dramatic love battle taking place on a massive bed positioned in the middle.

Hank Summers, the 24-year-old employee of a local law firm, and his wife, the 22-year-old Joyce (née Morgan), former art student, laid entwined in each other’s arms.

They went through hours of rocking and rolling, fulfilling their wildest dreams, making each other happy in a way only young loving married couples can do. In the moments like that Hank and Joyce learned to forget ‘bout everything, believing that the whole white world had been reduced to the size of their bed.  

Their sex had always been passionate, carnal, sensual and very special. And tonight they made love as if it was their last time. Hank was manly and dominant, while his beautiful wife was an epitome of tenderness and fragility.

They met during a homecoming in Joyce’s freshmen year at Occidental College and soon became one of the most remarkable couples in the student circles. Many envied them. Both were handsome and smart, both were good students and active participants in college affairs.

Despite growing up during and after the disturbances of 1960s, Joyce and Hank remained faithful to some parts of the traditional worldview. Therefore they dreamed about happy family life with lots of kids, household pets and picnics on the weekends…

They got married soon after graduating from, thus fulfilling at least one of those dreams that make many average Americans happy…

…That night they were working really hard to make their next dream come true…

“Oh…. Joycieeeee… you’re a goddess…” – Hank moaned while his wife was slowly mounting him. He was already hard when Mrs. Summers rolled him over.

“Yeah, baby…” – Joyce murmured after straddling her man with her legs on both sides. She started to tease Hank, looking at him seductively and scratching his chest with her beautiful red-painted fingernails.

It was truly fantastic. Joyce’s pale skin almost shone in the moonlight, making woman look godlike.

Joyce Summers looked her husband in the eyes teasingly before lowering herself entirely  onto Hank’s manhood.

Mr. Summers felt like happiest man in the whole state of California.

“You’re perfect, Joyce…” – he whispered passionately.

Meanwhile Joyce hovered, brushing against the tip of his cock with her clit and then stuck her cute ass in the air. She used her hand to guide Hank’s hard penis into her vagina. Once he was in her the woman began moving slowly up and down along the length of Hank’s shaft, tilting her hips slightly…

Wanting his woman desperately, Mr. Summers started to lift Joyce up and down, with his strong hands underneath her butt and then on her hips. He rocked her back and forth.

“I love you, Joyce Summers” – Hank said dreamily, rubbing all the right places inside of Mrs. Summers. Their pleasure kept building up.

Giving in to the unearthly pleasure, Joyce leaned on her husband’s chest, slightly rubbing it with her hard nipples.

Hank’s body responded with jerking as he emptied himself inside her.

After the wild ride was over Joyce laid beside her spouse, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. Their naked bodies continued sweating profusely.

“Wow…” – that was almost all Hank Summers could say at the moment.

“Did you like it?” – Joyce asked her husband mischievously. 

“You’re perfect” – Hank replied embracing his love.

“You know, dear, I already began to come up with baby names…”

“Names?” – he asked her.

“Yeah, names” – the woman repeated delighted. – “I want many babies. Three or even four.”

“Wouldn’t it be too much, sweetie pie?” – Hank said poking Joyce tenderly at her ribs.

“No, honey. I grew up with two sisters and it was cool.”

“Right.” – Hank smiled giving his wife a wink. – “Who am I to argue with beautiful Joyce, the most gorgeous women ever to walk the Earth? You want three babies – we’ll work on that.”

“Oh, Hank…” – she kissed her beloved husband and then snuggled against his manly form.

“So what’s with the names?” – he asked.  

She just smiled in return.

“Come on, Joyce… Please tell me” – Hank said with mocking expression. – “Satisfy my lust for knowledge.”

“Honey, I can satisfy your lust in some other ways” – Joyce answered with seductive grin. – “But if you wanna know, I’ll tell you. I’d like to name the boy William…”

“William? Sounds good I guess… And… what about the girl?”

“If we have a baby girl, I’d like to give her a name Elizabeth.”

His wife’s choice made Hank Summers chuckle a little: “Elizabeth? Oh, you mean, like Her Majesty the Queen?”

“No, Hank. The Queen has nothing to do with it. It’s just a beautiful name, don’t you think?”

“Of course it is” – Hank agreed. He couldn’t disagree with his handsome and smart wife.

He pulled her closer to him and soon once again they started losing themselves in the heat of the night.

 

3.

**Ira and Sheila Rosenberg’s apartment. Sunnydale, California. July 1980.**

 

Hot summer nights in California were perfect times for passionate lovemaking – especially in cases of young couples married less than a year. Yet despite nighttime, summer heat, only one bed around and the absence of clothing, Ira and Sheila Rosenberg, both 26-year-old former UCLA sociology faculty students, husband and wife for ten months, seemed to be million miles away from one another.

That wasn’t because they didn’t love each other, but rather due to the fact that there were things that aroused this couple far more than sex. Those things were science and research.

Ira and Sheila sat side by side in their bed under the covers, studying attentively some magazines and manuals. Plenty of that printed matter was lying strewn on the bed and on the floor.

To a casual observer it could look like two college students taken by surprise in the middle of copulation with the news about the upcoming exam that were desperately trying not to screw everything up the next morning.

But  Sheila and Ira weren’t that kind of people. All of their lives they were taught to be the responsible members of society. Hence – no sex before marriage.

The first time Ira Rosenberg and his classmate Sheila Leibowitz set their eyes on each other was during an active discussion on some irrelevant subject (one of those things sociologists love so much) in their second year at the UCLA.

Since then everyone knew it was the matter of time until the two realize they were destined to end up together. It took several years to graduate and find some steady job before Mr. Rosenberg cleared his head and asked the love of his life to be his wife.

Their families wasn’t too happy about their children’s choice, the only consolation was that both were Jewish. Nevertheless, Ira and Sheila who fell more and more into the liberal and progressive agenda of the day, refused to have a traditional wedding ceremony in favor of a secular one.  

Ira and Sheila Rosenberg were serious people. They had no time for bullshitting. Having a family meant responsible parenting first and foremost. But they also had a dream: they wanted to give birth to a special child, the extraordinary one, smart and talented, the one that could be raised as a successful person,  the one who would make it big someday.

Another point was that both were over the top interested in child psychology, in everything connected to kids’ habits, tastes, behavior patterns etc. So they were more than glad to have potential research subject  in their own household.

“Any luck finding something?” – Ira Rosenberg inquired, looking at his spouse.

“Not much luck unfortunately” – Sheila told, putting her manual down. – “That family planning stuff usually deals with the exact time of bringing someone into this world, not what kind of person she or he should be…”

“Just as I thought…” – Ira muttered, laying his head back on a pillow and staring at the bedroom ceiling.

Sheila for her part looked at the window. Then she turned back to her husband taking his hand in hers.  

“There’s got to be some other way” – Mr. Rosenberg broke the silence once again.

“I guess, most of the things, you and me keep talking about for so long, have nothing to do with how or when  do we conceive this baby of ours” – his wife  said. – “In fact more things depend on child’s upbringing. It has a lot to do with how we will prepare our child to live in this world and to be a productive member of society.”

“Does society have to be in the first place?” – Ira asked suddenly.

“Yes it does, Ira.” – his wife replied adamantly. – “Children have to learn how to live in the world around them, they must know how to face the reality, they should know how to outgrow all those childish fantasies, delusions and misconceptions...”

Sheila looked around, sighed and then continued: “Modern children cannot live in the society and stay away from it. This ultra-individualism has never done good to anyone. Putting oneself above responsibilities and obligations is the easiest way to not achieve anything. If we want our future child to be somebody, the last thing we should do is spoiling her or him.”

“You have a point, darling, but… don’t you think that much stress on all those responsibilities, rules and regulations may cause an opposite effect. Kids don’t like pressure, you know”. – Ira’s stance on the subject was somewhat softer than that of his wife.

“You can’t cook an omelet without breaking eggs, darling” – Sheila said with a serious expression only she could put on her face (while lying naked in bed with her husband). – “If you want the kid to achieve something, to find his place in life, you have no choice but to put some pressure on him or her. Sure, they won’t be happy at first, but I know they will be more than grateful after they mature and learn enough. No parent wants something bad or unbearable for his children, believe me. This is just for their own good, remember”.

She moved up, laying her head on a pillow and exposing her breast.

“You’re right, honey” – Ira Rosenberg tried to agree with his wife, while staring at her charms. – “But… what I’m tryin’ to say is this: we talk a lot ‘bout how we see the future of our child, what we want for him or her. What about what the kid wants?”

“At a very young age they do not know that much to have a clear picture of reality or their place in it. They have zero experience in most things – so it’s, you know, not very wise to rely too much on their wants and demands” – Sheila sounded way too confident while grinning in more and more carnal way.    

It was late at night. The Rosenberg couple liked that kind of ‘scientific’ debate which reminded them about their years as students. They could go on like that for hours, but all of a sudden both figured out they were in their marital bed, not in some classroom.

Ira and Sheila Rosenberg fell into each other’s arms and started fucking like rabbits.

 

4.

 **Some desolate barn on a farm not far from Sunnydale, California.  April 1980**.

 

The place wasn’t suitable enough for a games like these, but  Anthony Harris, 21, and his girlfriend Jessica MacNair, 19, couldn’t care less. They were young and horny, they had nothing else to do and they wanted to spend more time together.

Their clothes were lying scattered across the earthen floor, while Tony and Jessica had fun on the pile of hay. Jessica stood on her hands and knees with her tits swinging, while her boyfriend fucked her from behind doggie style.

Re-writing Kama Sutra wasn’t that easy for two American kids, so they had no choice, but to use some help. Time and time again Jessica smoked a joint, and Tony… well, he just drank whiskey out of the bottle.

Their ‘dialogue’ was quite expectable.

“Oooohhh, Toooonyyyy, you are…. soooooo… Oooohh, pleeeeeeze, honey… doo it to meee… do iiiit to meee nooow… Fuck me haaard…. Pleeeeeezeeee, fuuuuuck me haaaard!”

“Yeah baby…” – was the laconic answer.

Tony Harris was a gas station employee and an asshole, the kind you don’t wanna mess with. He was rude and obnoxious, loved to drink and most people who knew him thanked God for not crossing Tony’s path one way or another. He was considered a white trash, the lowest of the low by many. Meanwhile Jessica worked for a living as waitress. Much like her boyfriend, she didn’t have a happy home life and wanted desperately to escape from that soul-killing life.

Like many girls her age, Jessica MacNair had those fantasies ‘bout living happily ever after in company of some knight in shining armor. Tony was nowhere near decent enough to fall into this category, but he was strong and well-built, he was cool and he could sometimes fuck like a beast. The guy was a manimal and Jessica almost wet herself, recalling their sex on more than one occasion.

Tony got tired and laid back in the hay, sweat running down his muscular body. He took another whiskey drink and stared at the ceiling. He had satisfied his needs once again and thought life was good. Life couldn’t be that bad, when whiskey and chicks were still around.

Jessica took a sitting position, looking around and inhaling deeply. Brushing her hair away from her face, she scanned whiskey bottle in her boyfriend’s hand. Sex with Tony always left her throat dry, so she reached out for the ‘Love potion No 9’. Knowing her needs, Harris handed the bottle to his girlfriend.

Jessica took a sip, moving her hand across her slender stomach, sending some invisible signals to her lover.

“What’s up, babe?” – Tony was the first to speak.

“Fine” – she said. – “Did you like it?”

You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what ‘it’ was.

“Sure, kiddo” – Tony chuckled, looking at his girlfriend kind of rapey. – “You were fantastic. I thought my balls gonna bust, you know.”

Jessica smiled before taking one more drink from the bottle. She crawled over to Tony, taking his penis in her hand. Harris nearly jumped up surprised at girl’s sudden move. Then his face split into a lustful grin.

That sort of sight gag continued for several minutes. Both stared at each other: Tony grinning like a madman, Jessica licking her lips. She had a whiskey bottle in her right hand and her boyfriend’s manhood in her left.

Putting the bottle aside, Jessica leaned forward, keeping her eyes fixed on her man’s dick. Then, as was often the case, she gave her partner a blowjob.

“Ohhhh, gal… you’re amazing… Oooohhh…” – Tony moaned with an idiot smile on his face. This was the part he usually liked the most.

… They were lying side-by-side, still nude, sweating and breathing heavily, staring up at the barn ceiling which hadn’t changed a bit.

“Tony…” – Jessica started.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot recently, you know…” – she paused for a moment.

“So?..” – Tony tried to intervene.

“You and me, you know.” – she said. – “We love each other… Do you love me, Tony?..”

“Of course I do, honey” – Tony answered scratching his balls a little.

“So, we do love each other and we are good for each other… and… I mean, we can make each other happier then we already are… So… how about… uhm… you know, moving on some kinda higher level of our relationship?..”

Silence reigned upon them for a minute or two.

“Y-you like the idea?” – Jessica turned and glanced at her boyfriend.

“Oh I see…” – Tony decided to say. – “You’re tryin’ to rope me in, girl…”

He looked  at his girlfriend with a strange sparks in the eyes.

“But anyway…” – he continued. – “It’s a man’s duty to make his woman happy… A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, you know. So how can I refuse?..”

“Oh, Tony, you’re wonderful… I’ve always dreamed ‘bout a family with kids and house and everything…” – Jessica kissed him on the mouth.

He didn’t answer, but started caressing his woman’s thighs. Without warning Tony grabbed his girlfriend and put her on top of him. She started licking her lips with excitement.

Tony Harris grinned, looking at his future wife’s naked form from top to toe.

“You’re smart girl, Jesse, very smart” – he told her. – “And now you need a little patience, sweetheart. ‘Coz kids aren’t born all by themselves, you know…”

 

5.

**Pratt family mansion. London, England. Ca 1853.**

**Bedroom of William Pratt Sr.**

 

“In the name of God and Her Majesty the Queen I demand you spread your legs immediately and let me perform my marital duties, Anne Caroline Pratt!”

For nearly half an hour William Cameron Pratt, the 33-year-old merchant from British capital, tried desperately to take the virginity of his 21-year-old wife Anne (née Porter), the shy farmer’s daughter.  It was a marriage arranged by the families of two: the newlyweds barely knew or spent considerable amount of time together before all the ceremonies.

And now Mr. William Pratt asked, begged and demanded, but to no avail. Words and exhortations didn’t help, but the head of the newborn family was too much of a gentleman to use unnecessary force.

The man was getting sufficiently frustrated, ready to bang his head against the wall or to start breaking things, yet his young dewy-faced wife stayed relentless and kept her legs shut.

“What in God’s name is happening to you, wife of mine?” – the merchant asked his spouse, mentally acknowledging his family life not to be all ponies and rainbows. – “Why are you so adamant in not letting me, your rightful husband, bound with you by the Sacred Marriage, to impregnate you with my semen?? Answer me!”

He glared at the poor girl almost viciously, making her shiver and bury her face in her hands. She was under warm blanket, but her naked body started getting goose bumps.

Anne Pratt looked at her husband in awe, her face red from constant crying. The man on the other hand reddened considerably as well due to the growing impatience. And  lust.

Mr. Pratt shuddered and started pouring with cold sweat at the very thought of becoming an unlucky character of some creepy urban legend. He imagined his fellow Londoners passing stories ‘bout a man unable to take his newlywed wife’s virginity inside his own bedroom from generation to generation…

William pressed his face against the bedsheets and groaned. Anne kept watching her spouse torn between her own defiance and her pity for an unlucky gentleman.

“Alright” – the man started talking after some pause. – “So you refuse permission for your doodle sack... This stance of yours unfortunately brings myself to express an opinion, that  you, dear Anne, ceased to be a virgin long ago. I have this suspicion that some other – unknown and unworthy – man has already tasted what was supposed to be mine!”

Saying this, Mr. Pratt grimaced, trying to make his words sound as condemnatory as possible. That approach appeared to be more successful: Anne nearly broke down and threw herself to her husband.

“No! You are wrong, kind sir! I am still a virgin! I have never known a man in my life, I have kept my virtue for all those years! My private parts are still private!!”

“Pardon me, my dear, but I must reject this statement of yours” – he tried to sound skeptical to the core and he succeeded in scaring Mrs. Pratt shitless. – “Your family will very soon know the depths of your disgrace.”

After hearing this Anne went pale and burst into tears. She started begging and babbling in an attempt to put her arms around William, while still keeping access to her entrance closed.

“Nononoohpleasegodno!” – she sobbed. – “Please don’t do this to me, oh kind sir, please… I swear I haven’t slept with any man. You are my first and the only one…”

“But how can I confirm the truthfulness of your words?” – William asked coldly.

Anne kept weeping like a baby, forcing her rightful husband to back down a little.

“Well, then will you explain everything to me?” – the merchant tried to reason with his spouse. – “What is wrong with you, oh lovely Anne?”

“I… I… I’m afraid…” – that was all she managed to say.

“Afraid?” – Mr. Pratt raised his eyebrow. – “I beg your pardon, but afraid of what? What exactly are you afraid of? Or WHO are you afraid of? Is it me?”

“No, sir…”

“Who then?”

“I’m afraid because of the pain” – she confessed. – “I can’t stand it.”

She turned away wiping her eyes.

At last Mr. Pratt got a key to solving something. It was a common situation: some virgins were coming to dread their first sexual intercourse. For some it was rather painful experience letting the man inside their coffee-houses…

“Why do you think it will be that painful, my child?” – William decided to inquire.

“Y-you think it won-n’t?” – Anne asked him.

“Ehmm… Well… Maybe just a little. It could hurt, but just a tiny bit. And after that you will experience a true bliss, the joy of purest kind, my dear. You will feel like heaven, Anne. I will do my best to satisfy you.”

Anne looked into her husband’s eyes intently. She had already stopped crying, though her face remained reddened a bit.

“H-how do you know this?” – she dared to ask.

That question caught the older man off-guard: “W-what do you mean?”

“How do you know what it is like? I mean, this whole marital thing, joy and bliss, heaven… How did you learn? Did you bring some other women into this bed of yours to teach you?..”

“Bloody hell, woman, how dare you???” – William Pratt Sr. was furious. – “Who told you this complete nonsense?? William Cameron Pratt is a decent hard-working and God-fearing man, who values things like honor! If you think otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll see you in court!”

He was breathing heavily, looking at his young wife in disbelief. How come this foolish child thought and expressed despicable nonsense of that kind? Anne could feel Mr. Pratt was shaking.

“I promise I shall be good” – William announced after almost perpetual silence. – “I  will be gentle. And I will be tender and caring as well. So you, my dear wife, have every right to say or make a sign in case something goes wrong.”

Anne Pratt knew it was time to surrender to her fate and status. She made her marriage vows, promising to love and to obey her husband forevermore. She couldn’t break the promise made before God Almighty, she had no right to. She couldn’t demonstrate her weakness in the face of a minor discomfort. No, the women of England were capable of much more!

Yet she had some doubts.

“Excuse me, kind sir…”

“Please call me William, my love.”

“Good, William. I… I can see I have no choice but to submit to my marital duties in accordance with the vows given. Nevertheless, I have one wish…”

“What kind of wish, my love?”

“Could you perform your marital duties in… let us say… some other way… At this moment… I do not feel like I am ready to let you into my… hmm… tuzzy-muzzy. There have to be more ways to make a married woman happy than just one, I guess… Am I wrong?”

“No, you are right. There are different ways and different positions for a husband and wife to make each other happy. Although I’m afraid there is only one way to get inside the woman’s coffee house and inseminate her…” 

“Oh…” – Anne felt quiet and stared at the moonlit window.  Her husband knew it was time to come with a plan.

“Alright” – he said. – “Let us do it this way. I will try to… make you feel good from… uhm… another direction. If you like it than maybe we’ll try to work with your… ‘crinkum-crankum’ thing…”

William swallowed hard, feeling waves of arousal overpowering him.

“Good. Be that as it may, my love.” – Anne answered with a smile. Mr. Pratt took his wife’s face into both of his hands and kissed her softly.  He was glad, seeing that change of attitude.

“Now please roll over on your stomach. – Mr. Pratt told his spouse. – “For it’s going to be a long-long night.”


	2. Chapter 2

6.

**Some small camping site outside Glendale, California. June 1979.**

 

It was a beautiful and inspiring summer day – just a perfect time to get out, to leave big city behind and enjoy the Great Outdoors.

Apparently, Daniel Thomas Osbourne, an auto mechanic from Glendale, California, and his wife Helen (née Chambers), the school teacher, both 27 at the time, shared the need to spend some time outside the city limits. Dan and Helen couldn’t find a better way to celebrate their second anniversary: the couple packed their bags and without a second thought drove to that picturesque place.

A plethora of greenery, wild flowers of different colors, some distant mountainside and a lake seemed to be the suitable spot for a small camp out.

Daniel Osbourne met his future wife at the gig of a local garage band, in which he happened to be the lead guitarist. He asked the cute and shy girl for a date several days later and they remained inseparable since then. Dan worked multiple jobs in order to achieve financial independence for his own family. Not long after saying their marriage vows Daniel and Helen bought a fine house. It was quite cozy based on the level of their income.

The couple had lots of reasons to feel happy, yet there was a thing that somehow tarnished Osbournes’ well-being: they still didn’t have kids.

…It was already a noon, as Mr. Osbourne set in the shade by the lakeside, trying to concentrate on fishing. His young wife for her part kept pottering about the small campfire. The man was silent (it was a family trait ‘mongst  Osbourne men!), very deep in thoughts, staring at the distance with an emotionless expression on his face.

The birds chirping, the insects buzzing, the water splashing – it all seemed to be filled with rhythm to him.

Daniel remained immersed in meditation, thus not noticing Helen, who came near and set beside her husband.

“How’s it going, Mr. Buddha?” – Mrs. Osbourne inquired playfully.

“Huh?..” – was the first thing Daniel managed to say after being brought back into the real world.

“Hey, baby” – he continued after coming to his senses. – “Didn’t hear ya comin’”

“It’s no wonder, because you seemed to be lost in your thoughts, darling” – Helen commented, getting a little closer to her beloved.

Mr. Osbourne smiled a little before putting his left arm around his wife. Helen laid her head on her spouse’s shoulder. Sometimes she was concerned with Dan’s withdrawals like that, but she always loved the moments of closeness and warmth that followed.

“Did you catch anything?” – Helen inquired, following the man’s gaze at the calm waters.

“Nah” – Mr. Osbourne replied, showing her empty fishing hook. – “Seems like something or someone scared off the fish”.

 “Maybe some unwelcome guests like ourselves” – Mrs. Osbourne speculated.

Daniel took a look above, at the blueness of almost cloudless skies. His wife looked back in the direction of their tent.

“It’s gettin’ hotter” – the man spoke to no one in particular, still partly lost in his thoughts. – “Siesta time.”

“I guess lunch comes first” – Helen suggested, running her hand over man’s back.

“I guess you’re right” – Dan said.

“Don’t say much, do you?” – Mrs. Osbourne said inches away from her husband’s form.

For a teacher, who used to talk a lot at during school hours, such reticence (another family trait of Osbourne males) seemed odd at best, frightening at worst.

“I’m a man of few words, you know” – Daniel replied with a smile.

“May I ask, what you’re thinking about, honey?” – Helen decided to inquire. – “For I’m beginning to suspect it was you who posed for this world famous sculpture of ‘The Thinker’ by Rodin.”

Woman’s words made Mr. Osbourne chuckle.

“I think therefore I am” – he solemnly declared.

Daniel looked intently at his young wife, his green eyes meeting her blue ones.

“Frankly, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout the future” – the man decided to specify. – “’Bout where do we go from here. You know much I love you, baby?”

“You’re my everything, darling…” – his wife replied.

“I’m a happiest man alive” – Mr. Osbourne continued, putting the fishing pole aside. – “And I’m not exaggerating. From the moment I saw you it was like all those fireworks exploded in my head and… and in my heart. Back then I knew I found a woman I can spend the rest of my life with… You had me from the very first greeting… So… Helen Osbourne, I want you to know that with you by my side every day is a special for me. I’m happy beyond belief that you are my wife, Helen.”

“Oh, Daniel…” – Helen murmured dreamily, wrapping her arms around her husband, who swallowed and carried on:

“But what I’m tryin’ to say is…  No matter how happy we are and how complete we feel, I guess it’s time for us to move on and… sort of expand our small family…”

Helen pulled away slightly, raising an eyebrow. Her whole appearance was one of confusion. Sometimes she found it hard to understand Dan’s trail of thought, but those words left her completely abashed.

“W-what d-do you m-mean by that, h-honey? You w-want to invite s-someone else into our relationship?” – Mrs. Osbourne was at the verge of tears. She didn’t want to share her Dan with some other woman!

“What?” – Daniel nearly jumped, hearing what his wife said. – “No, of course not, Helen. I didn’t mean anything like you just said.”

He gave woman a hug and then kissed her softly.

“I’m talkin’ about the kids” – Mr. Osbourne clarified. – “Those cute small people who tend to bring happiness and joy and a lot of loving… I love children, Helen, and I want to have one or more with you. Desperately want. I guess it’s just a fatherly instinct getting’ stronger day by day… I know you love kids like I do and you want them too…”

“I do” – Mrs. Osbourne  confirmed, pressing her lips against those of her husband. – “I love kiddies. I know you’ll be a great father, Dan.”

“You’ll be a Mom one could ever dream of too” – Daniel told his spouse.

“Let’s talk about parenthood during our lunchtime” – Helen proposed. – “We got the whole siesta thing ahead and the tent is kinda big…”

Daniel paused for a while and then came up with an idea: “Honey, you know well how much I want to taste your cooking, but… How would you like to freshen up a little before meal?..”

He wrapped his arms around his woman, inhaling her scent and feeling her body heat, and then nodded toward the small lake.

“You win” – Helen answered. – “Just let me put out the campfire first.”

They took off their clothes and took a dip in the cool waters. They were swimming and laughing and spraying water at each other. They seemed to be the only man and woman in the whole world, away from prowling eyes. Skinny dipping turned out to be a fun experience on the hot summer day.

Having lunched, Daniel and Helen took refuge from summer heat in their tent. Instead of talking ‘bout having babies, the Osbournes decided to make ones.  Sex was always amazing at the Great Outdoors…

While making his wife almost scream in ecstasy and beg for more, Daniel Osbourne Sr. silently promised himself to teach his first-born child how to play the guitar…  

 

7.

**Giles family manor. Somewhere near Inverness, Scotland. May 1954.**

**Room occupied by Roger and Margaret Giles.**

 

It was raining really hard on that spring night. The raindrops beat mercilessly at the window, disturbing the peace inside the room. In the dark it wasn’t that easy to distinguish it looked like, let alone spot the massive wooden bed with two occupants on it.

Roger Mortimer Giles, 33, laid still, peering into the night shadows that were dancing on the walls and ceiling. On top of him laid his wife Margaret Rose (née Tyler), the 24-year-old fragile beauty. They were resting after hours of passionate lovemaking, which in their case served as some kind of relief from pressure of the world outside. Especially the pressure from the husband’s family.

Roger Giles was no wuss. The man had been through deadliest war in human history, serving in His Majesty’s Armed Forces (the military intelligence to be precise), participating in North African and Italian campaigns.

Yet even the greatest horrors of the war were no match for the ones lurking in the shadows of a seemingly daily life. The things that go bump in the night overshadowed everything Roger have seen on the battlefield.

The thing is that Roger Giles was a Watcher. He belonged to the Watchers Council – centuries old  governing institution set up to guide and aid the Slayers – young girls chosen by fate and bestowed with mystical powers to fight against vampires and demons. The Council itself descended from the three African shamans known as the Shadow Men, who created Sineya, the first in the line of Slayers, filled with the soul, heart and spirit of the Shadow Demon.

Many positions inside Council’s hierarchy remained hereditary for centuries. Mr. Giles’ own mother Edna was a part of the team and his future son or daughter (the one he and Maggie have probably conceived that night) had to accept the title as well. In many cases all of this seemed more like a burden than the privilege. Threat from the demonic forces was as real for Watchers, as it was for Slayers.

Lying in his bedroom in the dark, stroking the small of his sleeping spouse’s back, listening to the falling rain outside, Roger Giles wasn’t sure he wanted that kind of future, that kind of destiny for his unborn child. Like every decent parent he wanted his kids to have a better life than he had. He had no desire to expose them to the dangers of the mystical world and make them deal with monsters of all kinds.

Due to the intense training the Watchers were well-prepared and armed in the face of darkness, both physically and metaphorically. But that didn’t always help and many have lost their lives, perishing in the fight. Roger knew that when his son or daughter turned ten he would have no choice but to introduce him or her into the dark and sinister world.

Mr. Giles had to fight his own personal demons, i.e. the temptation to take his lovely wife and go into hiding, run away, reach some distant corner of the world only to spare his offspring of that fate… The Council would label him as traitor and coward, his mother would renounce him too. Vampires for their part won’t leave him and his family alone either.

On the other hand it wasn’t only about the Council or the Giles family.  The future of the whole world, the safety of a mankind were also his responsibility. His duty was to help fighting the good fight, resisting evil, keeping darkness at bay. Without Slayers and the Watchers Council the world would be left totally defenseless, at the mercy of the most ruthless and vile creatures from all dimensions. If mankind fell prey to Evil, the fate of Giles family would be sealed.   

Roger Giles continued watching the shadows of the night with drops of rain slowly lulling him to sleep. He had to be strong. He had to take of Margaret and the future kids. Deep inside he realized that no matter what he felt or what he feared, no matter what dangers laid ahead, he would find the strength to make a right decision.

The young Watcher knew he had to be strong for his wife and still unborn child. He was obliged to do everything he could to leave his descendant armed and ready. He couldn’t let them down, he had no right to. He would never forgive himself if he did.

Falling asleep, Mr. Giles prayed for the strength to make it right.

 

 

8.

**Maclay family farm. Near Idaho City, Idaho. February 1980.**

 

Little by little the blackness of night covered the Maclay family farm. However not all members of the said family were asleep yet. Among those who had other things on their mind rather than sleeping was the head of the ‘Maclay’ clan, Vincent Maclay, 35, the cattle dealer – regular guy on the outside, pervert and control freak behind the closed doors of his home.

Like many previous nights, Mr. Maclay wasn’t alone with his ‘insomnia’.

“Submit yourself to my authority, you, witching whore and disgusting demon!” – the man’s voice pierced through the nighttime stillness. – “Surrender to your master or face the consequences of my wrath!”

Maclay’s wife Virginia (née Trimble), 28, to whom those words were addressed, couldn’t respond simply because of the fact that she was bound and gagged.

Everything took place in the basement of Maclays’ house. The site was dark and creepy, partially lit up by the old gas lamp. Vincent Maclay stood tall in the middle, facing a medium-sized iron bed, wearing only his favorite cowboy hat. Down there, on the mattress laid Mrs. Maclay herself, fully naked like her husband, restrained four-point with her hands and feet shackled to the bed.

Vincent Maclay was mostly bored of regular sex. Thus he preferred some extreme forms – the ones that usually involved elements of BDSM. Head of Maclay family had lots of issues with the opposite sex, therefore his primary life goal was to keep all of the Maclay women (there wasn’t too much of them in fact) under his thumb. Obviously his wife was the first (and mostly the only one) on the receiving end of the guy’s antics.

The point is that Mr. Maclay was a firm believer in the demonic origin and nature of womanhood. He felt that most of those cute and curvy beings were real hell-beasts, ready to unleash their infernal fury on the unsuspecting mankind at any given moment.  He knew women were evil, he had not a single doubt about their essence being rotten to the core. Vincent suspected they were already corrupted back in the mother’s womb…

His own wife was the witch and turning her into a slave of some kind was nothing more nor less than a matter of survival for Mr. Maclay.

Nonetheless, there was one big problem with the whole theory: the odd farmer couldn’t prove his claim with any piece of empirical evidence. That saddened the man deeply. Lucky for him (not for his spouse or some other female relatives) the slick farmer had figured a way out. Yes, he couldn’t persuade people outside of his mega inner circle into believing in his wacky ideas. But he was capable of using his knowledge of the things demon-related – no matter how stingy and superficial that knowledge was – to brainwash Maclay women into buying that shit.

Poor Mrs. Maclay and some other females of the family had to endure both emotional and physical abuse at the hands of cunning bastard, compelled to believe his ‘measures’ would help. By terrorizing his spouse Virginia into submission Vincent Maclay tried to kill two birds with one stone: too keep the woman in constant subjugation while at the same time assuring her he was her friend and helper, the one who was trying to prevent Virginia from harming others or herself. Using both carrot and stick served as a perfect way to keep the one Mr. Maclay viewed as merely his belonging under complete control.      

“Bow down to me, oh demon! I command you to obey your master!” – sick pervert cried, knowing full well his wife was not in a position neither bow or move in general.

He spoke loudly not caring to wake up their 2-year-old son Donald, who was sleeping  in a baby’s room with his nanny. In fact Mr. Maclay wanted his boy to hear what was going on downstairs. Donnie had to be aware how to deal with the wicked kind like his Mom or other females. He had to learn the ‘right’ attitude and Vincent Maclay was willing to serve as the best teacher.

“Virginia, darling, you know full well ‘bout your sorry condition” – the man continued in a more calm tone of voice. – “You do realize that I wanna help ya. I wanna help ya live with that…”

He stopped, taking another look at Mrs. Maclay’s frightened and tear-stained face. The bound and naked woman tried to speak, but no distinct words came out of her mouth. Virginia looked at her tormentor pleadingly, but to no avail.

It was visible that Mr. Maclay really enjoyed the whole thing. The pervert enjoyed every single moment of his vicious game, drawing energy from his spouse’s evident fear.

“Believe, my love, I want to ease your pain. I want you to feel more comfortable, more at home in this world” – Maclay told his wife pacing near the bed. – “And, as you know, above all I’m tryin’ to teach you to control this possession of yours.”

He looked at Virginia’s nude form, licking his parched lips and smirking.

Inhaling the dank smell of his own small torture chamber and staring at his victim, Vincent Maclay was in high anticipation.

“Don’t be afraid, honey. Have faith in your master” – the pervert said grinning like a true madman that he was. – “I just want you to know, this is gonna hurt me more than it hurts ya…”

And with these words the pathetic loser jumped on the bed, getting on top of his bound and gagged wife.

He ravished Virginia all night long, traumatizing both her and their yet to be conceived second child… 

 

9.

**Pat Lehane’s apartment. Boston, Massachusetts. March 1981.**

 

It was already close to midday. Nevertheless the occupants of a small flat, located on the third floor of the multi-storey block in one of Boston’s disadvantaged areas, seemed not to bother ‘bout that fact at all. Despite sunlight pouring through the windows, two totally naked bodies kept lying motionless and uncovered on a bed in a slightly thrashed room. The blanket laid around on the floor, mixed up with clothes, bottles of alcohol, joints and some other stuff.

Pat Lehane, the 23-year-old unemployed, college dropout and occasional criminal, together with his 17-year-old girlfriend Norma Williams, runaway from home and a minor offender, slowly recovered after a wild alcohol-fueled night.

Sometimes sex and alcohol were the only escape routes for two lost souls, two young people from troubled neighborhoods with little hope for a better future and zero social skills to become decent members of society.

Both Norma and Pat didn’t belong to an ‘optimistic’ category. The two had a feeling they would end up either behind bars or in the mental facility, or even at the cemetery. Those were the grim prospects but both lovers have already been too  disillusioned to give anything a try.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” – Pat Lehane muttered, slowly rubbing his eyes. – “I feel like my fucking head is goin’ to explode… Shit, how many did we ever have last night?..”

He had received no answer. Turning around Pat saw his younger partner lying on her stomach, still having dreams.

“Fine” – Lehane said to no one in particular. – “Gotta get up…”

His attempt wasn’t that successful. His body was sore and the guy felt some foul taste in his mouth.

“Oh shit” – Pat groaned, falling back on the pillow. – “It was kinda rough night… But, man, you need drink less…”

He chuckled hearing what he himself just said. Pat has made countless resolutions like that in the past but all of them were abandoned after latest every bender. For with grim reality taking its toll on him, Pat Lehane had to admit that drinking somehow helped the man to stay afloat. Consuming alcohol didn’t feel that bad, it was the hungover that made him begging for death.

 It was a beautiful early spring morning, but neither Pat nor his sleeping girlfriend seemed to notice. After nights filled with drinking, smoking pot and necessarily following fuck-o-rama both had problems simply adjusting to the real world around them: it’s sounds, lights and smells.

Pat Lehane continued lying on his bed with gaze travelling from here to there. He believed that post-orgasmic laziness (as them both used to call such thing) would go away if he laid not moving for some time. The guy understood sooner or later he wouldn’t have a choice except for getting his skinny ass up and going outside in search for whiskey and some snatch along with money. Getting a job used to be his number one priority, but unfortunately those things had a tendency to change.

Mr. Lehane was a tough guy kick-your-ass-guy, the one none of you wanted to mess up with, let alone meet at some narrow side street. People like Pat could take what they perceived as theirs without a second thought. The man had a reputation that did him some good in certain circles…

On the other hand the young man was well aware that pure luck wasn’t a permanent thing. He could live through another day and he could lose his lives or meet cops. Death, jail or life on the run – not much choice, huh?

Still he was somewhat concerned ‘bout Norma. Pat put his hand on the small of girl’s back. Part of him realized that chick needed him and he couldn’t let her down. She didn’t have all those survival skills he had. Lehane had no choice but to give a possibility of finding a job or moving to another town at least a try.

“Damn… Why the hell all those fucking things got to be so fucking complicated?..” – the guy muttered staring at the ceiling. Pat found it especially hard to work something out after reckless nights like the last one…

“Hmm… honey… what time is it now?..” – the sleeping woman interrupted her lover’s thoughts, deciding to get involved.  

“Almost lunchtime” – Pat informed her chuckling.

“Oh…” – Norma tried to sit up, making a quick look all over the place. Then she started to rub her eyes.

Once again Pat laid his eyes on his undressed girlfriend. She was wonderful. She was young and still maintained some traces of childish innocence in her appearance. Her pale skin was fantastic mostly owing to the fact that she’s never been at the beach in her life. The guy felt as his cock started slowly reacting at the sight. He wished to take that beauty right there for probably a hundredth time.

He wanted to fuck that chick senselessly. Here on his old bed. Or down there on the dirty floor. All over the apartment: in the shower, in the kitchen, on the balcony. Pat was one step away from throwing himself at Norma and ravish her hard. Yet he made no move.

“How are you, honey?” – he asked her instead.

“Five by five” – she replied, moaning, unable to rise up immediately, placing her head on a pillow and gazing at her older lover. – “After all those things we did… Boy, it was fucking amazing…”

 Norma put her right hand on Pat’s chest and started to write some invisible signs with her tiny finger. Meanwhile her left hand kept moving down to the location below the belt. The girl murmured something, staring at her boyfriend’s slightly erected dick.

“You know, I want more…” – she told him with a seductive grin.

“Lover, give me time” – Pat replied, causing some sort of disappointment on a woman’s face. – “We gotta whole lotta night ahead. I promise I’ll take ya for a ride.”

Mr. Lehane gave his girlfriend a meaningful look.

“Kay” – Norma said, her voice close to whisper.

For several minutes they laid staring at different directions: Pat – at the ceiling, Norma – at the window.

There was silence in the flat, disturbed only by the sounds behind the walls or out in the streets.

“Do we have some plans for today, honey?” – Norma said somewhat sarcastically, interrupting the quiet.

“I ain’t got no clue” – Pat said. – “Ain’t got no fucking clue”.

“Just like any other day” – the girl summed things up. – “Making plans sucks.”

“I agree” – her lover chuckled.

Norma picked up a cigarette from an ashtray left on a dresser.

“Got a match?” – she asked her man.

“Sure” – Pat handed her a lighter.

He looked at his girlfriend with a slight concern. Norma wasn’t an avid smoker and put cigarette in her mouth only in case of being nervous or frustrated.

“What’s up?” – Lehane asked his underage partner. – “Something bothering you?”

He didn’t get an immediate answer.

“Dunno… honey…” – Miss Williams tried after a little puff. – “You and me… We’re both pretty screwed-up, y’know…”

“You kinda sugarcoat it, babe” – Pat replied, almost bursting into laughter. – “Because from my P.O.V. we’re not screwed, we are pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah. But you know what? Sometimes I feel like I’m fucking tired of all that shit happenin’ around… us…”

Pat didn’t say a word.

“I want to move on. Sometimes it scares shit out of me… That prospect of ending my life in a freakin’ gutter…” – Norma continued. You know, I may be young, but I’m sure as hell not that naïve. I don’t believe in some fucking miracles or cheesy happy-endings, but…”

She hesitated either because of her unwillingness  to carry on or simply because all the right words aired out of her mind.

“But what?” – Pat Lehane wasn’t at all pleased with the direction their noontime post-copulation conversation has been taking, but tried to ‘help’ his girl nevertheless.

“But… Look, I know sumthin’ ‘bout anatomy and I’m freakin’ aware of my high chances to get knocked up despite all that fucking birth control stuff… If I become a mother, Pat…  I don’t want my child to go down the same freakin’ road… I don’t want him or her to end up in jail our in the streets… I want the child of mine to have a better life, as corny as it may sound… Do you believe in better life, Pat?”

Pat Lehane remained stunned for some time. Only on rare occasions his girlfriend Norma managed to express thoughts like that. Deep fucking thoughts.

“Interesting question…” – he said, smiling. – “I dunno what to believe in…”

“But we have to do something about… all of this…” – the woman suddenly declared. – “What shall we do now, lover?..”

Pat only grinned in return. He wished he knew what to say.

“I mean… is there any way out of this mess?” – Norma seemed defiant to have some answers. Neither alcohol nor marijuana and sex could totally free her mind from asking questions like that.

“I wish I knew, sweetie…” – her man sighed deeply. – “Maybe yes and… maybe no… It depends, I guess…”

“I’m just scared, Pat” – Norma confessed. She wasn’t much of a confession girl…

“Don’t be” – replied her boyfriend, trying to reassure naked 17-year-old (and a future mother as they would soon find out) there was at least some way out of their little hell. – “We’re gonna be fine. We just got to have faith… Got to have faith…”

 

10.

 **The cottage of Seamus and Moira Macbride. Galway, Ireland. Ca 1726**.

 

It was a peaceful and quiet night descending over the city of Galway. The streets were almost deserted, their silence disturbed only by wind howling, dog barking, shutters or doors’ occasional creaking, and some random drunk brawls. Most residents however were already back home, saying their prayers before falling asleep or some other nighttime activity.

The respected couple of Seamus Macbride, 38-year-old Galway-born linen and silk merchant, and his 27-year-old Sligo-born wife Moira (née Fylan) belonged to the latter category. They were married for more than two years and had to do something about the lack of offspring. They had to spend more times together – mostly at night, because of Mr. Macbride’s daytime business schedule.

Seamus Macbride was moderately wealthy merchant, pious and strict, always ready to do God’s will. Though he himself had his fair share of sinning in the days of his youth, in his older age Seamus learned to show considerable restraint and modesty.  He knew there were things more important than pleasures of the flesh.

The older Mr. Macbride became the more he thought about eternity and making his mark on history. He dreamed about a child. He wanted a son. He wanted someone to be proud of, someone to carry on, someone to make it big one day.

And now both Seamus and his younger wife were working on it. It was an early 18th century Ireland with strict moral codes. Therefore their sex had to be old-fashioned and uneventful. They kept pushing, rocking and rolling, breaking the silence with prayers or moans. They engaged in something that only remotely resembled lovemaking according to modern standards, in order to create a new life, not to satisfy their base instincts.

They wanted to end up in heaven, not the other way around. None of them said a word to each other.

As a matter of fact, Seamus Macbride had no time for bed talk. He was thinking about his son, about who he gonna be. Inside his mind he had already given his male child a name – Liam, strong-willed warrior and protector. The one who’d be feared and respected among his countrymen. The brave and decent, hard-working man. The devout Catholic and patriot of his Motherland. The father of a family. The true leader.

Mr. Macbride continued thinking about his unborn son’s possible future. Would Liam follow his father’s path or choose his own? Would he become a merchant or a soldier, a cleric or a poet, philosopher or politician? Would he travel to some distant and unspoken lands or lead the fight for freedom of his own country? Would he succeed or would he fail?

Seamus thought about many things considering his offspring in the nights like that. For a man like him it seemed more important than some romp with a younger wife. He could hear wind howling and seagulls screaming in the distance. He hoped for the better but feared the worse.

He wanted his son, who was yet to be born, to be one of the biggest men of his time. He desired him to achieve more and to go further than the father himself was ever able. Even in his wildest dreams the merchant from Galway couldn’t expect his only male child to end up as centuries-old bloodsucker, who was a part of the Scourge of Europe, then cursed with a soul, slept with vampire slayers, snapped necks of techno pagans, worked with former cheerleader and a demon from other dimension, or fought dragons in streets of L. A.

Seamus Macbride was no seer. He was a merchant and a God-fearing Irishman. He had no answers for the most questions and that kept him sane and sober. He had a time to live and to hope. What was yet to come was too big for a man like him and a world he lived in…

 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Doodle sack, coffee-house, tuzzy-muzzy and crinkum-crankum – Victorian-era slang for female vagina.


End file.
